


spread out the heavens

by annejumps



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Anal Fisting, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Established Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Fisting, M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26392000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: Tipsy, Richie holds his hand flat up against Eddie’s, palm to palm; his fingers are much longer than Eddie’s. Eddie frowns theatrically at him, and Richie smiles. “Look how small your hand is,” he coos. “Babyhand. Edward Babyhands.” He can’t stop laughing.“Fuck you,” Eddie says, but he doesn’t move his hand away. He lowers his brow, sticking out his lower lip in slightly drunken pugnaciousness. “I’ll shove this little hand up your ass, see what you have to say then.”“Ooooh!” Richie responds, delighted. “Seriously? Eddie, Eds, are you seriously offering to fuck me with your hand? Like, you’re threatening to fist me? Do you even know what fisting is?"Eddie looks affronted. “Excuse me, I’ve watched as much gay porn as you have—”“Oh, I seriously doubt that!” Richie crows.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 128





	spread out the heavens

After Eddie kisses Richie out of the Deadlights, a lot of things are different.

The months after they defeated Pennywise in Derry have been the happiest of Richie’s life by several orders of magnitude—particularly the day Eddie told his wife he was asking for a divorce. Now that they’re together, Richie can barely believe he gets to kiss Eddie’s face, wrap an arm around him, sleep with him in the same bed. They’ve spent an unreal amount of time together in Richie’s loft in Chicago. It’s beyond the wildest dreams Richie might have had as a lovesick teenager, especially the sex. God, the sex. His secret thoughts of touching Eddie were full of vague details since he didn’t know any better, and now he does, oh does he ever, and everything’s in vivid full color. Yes, Eddie knows well how gone Richie is for him now, and it’s worth it.

But some things are still the same. Richie’s always been bigger than Eddie, and he’s always made a point of noting it— _Oh Eddie, shortstack, you’re so little and cute. Cute cute cute! What a cutie!_ —and now, as adults, he’s almost comically bigger than Eddie, in height and breadth. Eddie still fumes when Richie says anything about it, and it makes him even more adorable. Richie still loves him with all his heart and soul, like he did even when he couldn’t remember him. Eddie might be tiny, but he’s still got Richie wrapped around his finger. His very small finger.

Richie’s taking some time off from standup, and Eddie’s obviously left his job in New York; they’re celebrating another Friday alone together, complete with another bottle of red, stretched out on the couch. Tipsy, Richie holds his hand flat up against Eddie’s, palm to palm; his fingers are much longer than Eddie’s. Eddie frowns theatrically at him, and Richie smiles. “Look how small your hand is,” he coos. “Babyhand. Edward Babyhands.” He can’t stop laughing. 

“Fuck you,” Eddie says, but he doesn’t move his hand away. He lowers his brow, sticking out his lower lip in slightly drunken pugnaciousness. “I’ll shove this little hand up your ass, see what you have to say then.”

“Ooooh!” Richie responds, delighted. “Seriously? Eddie, Eds, are you seriously offering to fuck me with your hand? Like, you’re threatening to fist me? Do you even know what fisting is?”

Eddie looks affronted. “Excuse me, I’ve watched as much gay porn as you have—”

“Oh, I seriously doubt that!” Richie crows. “Are you serious—” He stops, and blinks—it seems he’s having a revelation, or at least his dick is. “Dude, please don’t tease me with that, Eddie, I— Fuck, I think I really want you to do that, man.” And he really is getting hard at the very idea. Eddie fingering him gets him hot as hell. The first time they had penetrative sex, Richie had fucked Eddie and they’d both been delirious with how goddamn good it was even though it was clumsy and imperfect, but soon enough, they switched off, and Richie learned that Eddie fingering him, fucking him, makes him quake down to his very soul. Three fingers from Eddie had him climbing the walls and begging; he’s imagining now what it would be like to have Eddie’s entire hand inside him and squirming already. “God, please don’t be fucking with me—”

“Jesus, look at you,” Eddie says, trying frown sternly in disapproval of Richie’s hedonism and failing, dimples making an appearance. Richie leans in to kiss them and Eddie can’t help a laugh. “I mean, I was kind of joking but—” He moves to palm Richie’s crotch, pressing his hand firmly against Richie’s hardening cock through his clothes and laughing when Richie groans and pushes into the touch. “—You clearly really want this, so I guess—”

“God,” Richie sighs, slumping, beyond grateful that the proprietary attitude Eddie’s always had toward his person has continued into their adulthood, now with a decidedly sexual dimension. “I will _beg_ you if I have to.”

“You’ll be begging, all right,” Eddie says, letting Richie grind against his hand a little longer. He muses half to himself, “I’ve got plenty of lube, I’ve got latex gloves—”

“You’ve got like six boxes,” Richie interjects, starting to pant.

“Shut up,” Eddie says absently, taking his hand away. “You want to do this now, before we have any more to drink?”

“God yes,” Richie answers immediately. “Give it to me, baby.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Go get on the bed,” he instructs. “Put down a towel. Take everything off and be facedown for me.”

“Yes _sir_ ,” Richie says, firing off a salute and jumping to his feet—well, he gets close to jumping to his feet—and practically runs to the bedroom, shedding clothes on his way and nearly tripping more than once. He’s a little disappointed—he loves it when Eddie takes his clothes off, complaining about them all the while—but what Eddie wants, Eddie will get. 

He’s facedown on the bed and trying not to hump the mattress too much with his very interested dick when Eddie finally shows up, having made him wait a few minutes longer than he might have otherwise. Richie can hear Eddie, in seemingly no hurry, dealing with what sounds like the box with the latex gloves, and the lube; he’s tempted to turn his head and observe, but it’s somehow more exciting just listening, and wiggling in anticipation. 

Eddie catches him moving, and snorts. “You’re a grown man. Be patient.”

“I can’t,” Richie sighs. “I’m too hot for it.” He humps the bed, a little, just to get Eddie to scold him.

“Stop making a mess,” Eddie says, and the fact that Eddie knows he’s leaking all over the bed makes him moan. Eddie pauses in his preparations to pinch his asscheek in rebuke; Richie groans and wiggles.

“You’re not making me any less into this, Eds,” he tells him.

Evidently Eddie is too absorbed in the logistics of getting the glove on and lubing it up to acknowledge that with anything more than a grunt. “This is going to be a slow process, you know,” Eddie tells him. “Right away, you won’t be able to take my whole hand.”

Richie groans again. “God, hearing you say ‘be able to take my whole hand’ is so hot.”

“Richard. Listen,” Eddie says. “You big drunky.”

“I’m not drunk,” Richie insists. “And I know how it works.”

“Okay, so you know it’s not actually going to be a fist. Look.” Richie turns to look at Eddie, who’s stripped down to his little boxer-briefs and who is holding his gloved right hand out, with the fingertips gathered together in a point. “Like this.” 

“Yes. Like a puppet,” Richie says, straightfaced. “Like you’re a puppeteer and I’m a Muppet. Jim Henson me, baby. Actually, that’s more like a duck.” Richie starts doing a Donald Duck Voice, and Eddie sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. 

“Do you not want me to do this, or—”

Richie says in a normal voice, “God, yes, yes I do, baby. Please. Please stick your hand up my ass.”

Eddie shakes his head, and then gives Richie a smack on the rump with his free hand. “Turn over.”

“Thought you wanted me on my front.”

“Just wanted to see your ass. Turn over. Grab your knees, pull ‘em up,” Eddie tells him, and after Richie’s complied Eddie gets between his bent knees and parted legs. “You’re going to be glad you did what I said and put down a fucking beach towel because this is going to be a hell of a lot of lube.”

“Why is everything you say so fucking sexy?” Richie sighs. 

Eddie ignores that and instead holds his gloved and lubed hand up, the pointer finger alone out now. “Just one to start, okay? You ready for one?”

“Always,” Richie replies.

“Okay, now lie back and relax, just keep holding your knees for me if that helps.” And then he can feel Eddie’s finger sliding inside him. “We’ll just be like this for a while.”

“Awkward,” Richie remarks, smiling fondly. “Just sitting here with your finger in my ass. I can take two, you know.”

“I know you can, sweetheart, we’re just going slowly. Nothing to prove, just getting you relaxed.” Richie cracks his neck and settles in again, watching him. They’re quiet for a while, Eddie just working his finger in a bit further and moving it very subtly, making Richie’s breath catch all the more because he doesn’t seem to be trying for a reaction, he’s just frowning to himself and gently working Richie. 

Richie waits a few more beats before asking, conspiratorially, “So… You come here often?”

Eddie laughs, a genuine eye-crinkling, dimply laugh. “Jesus. Two?”

Richie nods. “Please.”

Eddie slides two fingers in, and Richie takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Yeah, he’s had more than this in his ass before, God knows, but never exactly this, and the working up to more, the anticipation of knowing what’s coming, in addition to being wise practically speaking is definitely stoking his flame. If Eddie even slightly doubts that Richie’s relaxed enough, he’ll stop, so it’s in Richie’s best interest to just let himself relax. 

“Good,” Eddie murmurs, sounding fond, and Richie opens his eyes, realizing he closed them, to meet his gaze. It’s still blowing his mind that Eddie is here, with him, living with him, in any state of undress in his— _their_ —bed, much less preparing to insert his hand up Richie’s ass. Something of this must show on his face, because Eddie’s eyes get all dark and soft, and he adds, “Love you,” and Richie nearly melts into the bed, reminded as ever of the first time Eddie said that to him. 

Richie swallows. “You’re the worst,” he croaks in a whisper, and Eddie grins and blows him a kiss, which he mimes catching by acting like he’s been hit in the face. Eddie chuckles softly, and takes the opportunity of Richie’s increased relaxation to gently work his fingers, together now, moving them apart a little too. He moves them to suddenly nudge Richie’s prostate, and Richie jolts like he’s been shocked. “You little bastard,” he wheezes. “God.”

“You love it,” Eddie says, and keeps massaging him there. “Look at that,” he adds, nodding toward Richie’s cock, which is getting redder and twitching and spurting out precome. 

“You have two hands,” Richie points out, trying and probably failing not to sound as desperate and breathless as he suddenly feels. 

“I do,” Eddie agrees, but he just stops doing what he was doing, and Richie groans. “Ready for three?” Eddie asks.

Richie nods, a little frantic. 

“You sure?”

“ _Yes_ , fuck,” Richie insists, a little wild. 

“Rich,” Eddie scolds, gently. And then there are three, and Richie knows that Eddie will just stop and make him wait longer if he doesn’t let himself progress and relax even though they both know damn well he _could_ go right now, or, well, okay, maybe not _Eddie’s entire hand_ with like actual _bones_ in it but— 

Okay. _Relax_. 

Three fingers is definitely something he can feel, making him very aware something is in his ass. As if sensing that he does need a little more time to adjust, Eddie isn’t moving his fingers or his hand yet, just letting Richie relax with it and get used to the feeling. Eddie leans on his leg a little, drawing Richie’s attention to him from staring unfocused in the direction of the ceiling, and murmurs, “I should probably tell you, this looks really hot. Just… seeing you like this.”

“Yeah,” Richie agrees in a hoarse whisper. “Jesus. It’s…. Technically it’s not even that big of a deal, right? So to speak. And yet… super hot.”

Eddie nods, and starts to move his fingers, just short, slow little thrusts. “Yeah. You good?” He shifts to kiss Richie’s knee.

“Yeah. Good,” Richie tells him. 

“Think I’ll get some more lube,” Eddie says, and then all his fingers are out and Richie exhales. Eddie’s quick about slathering on more lube, and then three fingers in at once, slowly but steadily, and Richie groans, feeling himself turning red. “Good?” Eddie says, a little louder, and Richie nods immediately and quickly. All of that at once again… fuck. It’s definitely not too much, but to be empty and then filled again….

“Good. Fine.” Eddie’s still again, letting him readjust. They just look at each other; Richie’s jaw is slack, his eyelids drooping a little as he concentrates on breathing.

“Tell me when I can move,” Eddie murmurs.

“You can move your other hand on my dick,” Richie suggests. 

Eddie laughs softly and shakes his head. “You’ll get distracted.”

Richie sighs theatrically. “Okay. You can move.” And Eddie does, gently working those three fingers until Richie is sighing with each little thrust, kind of mesmerized. 

“You’re doing really good, Rich,” Eddie murmurs after an indeterminate time. “You ready for four?”

Richie’s heartbeat tips up; four is kind of a big deal. Three, that’s more or less typical prep sometimes. Four…. Thumb’s next, and then… knuckles, and shit will be getting real. So to speak. He nods. “Yeah, babe, I’m ready,” he says, a little surprised at how husky his voice is. 

With his free hand Eddie drips lube from its container onto his hand, without removing any fingers this time. “I think I have enough to see this through to the end,” Eddie remarks, low and absorbed in carefully adding his pinky, “but let me know the second you think you need more, I mean it, Rich. If you hurt yourself, or let me hurt you—”

“I know, Doctor K, I’m fine,” Richie murmurs, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment as he feels Eddie’s four fingers now, going a little deeper than before. 

“We’ll stay like this longer,” Eddie says, “let you really adjust. Fuck, you’re doing so well,” he adds, sounding a little awed, and Richie Tozier has always had a weakness for impressing Eddie Kaspbrak. He lets himself relax back into the bed, feeling Eddie minutely spread his fingers apart, slow and careful. “Never thought you could be so good at relaxing,” he teases, sounding a little breathless.

Richie sticks his tongue out. “Whatever. I’m chill. You’re the hyper one. I can relax.”

“I see that.” Richie raises his head to see Eddie, pink-faced, looking down at where most of his hand is now inside Richie. His eyes are wide, dark, a little glassy and distracted. “Jesus, Rich.”

Richie huffs out a breath. “My poor dick,” he sighs, trying to be pointed about it, and Eddie scoffs, still looking at where his hand is disappearing into Richie’s ass. 

“If I touched your dick right now, you’d come, and the fun would be over because you’d be too sensitive,” Eddie points out.

He’s right, so Richie just groans. 

“Ready for my thumb soon?” Eddie asks, and bites his lip, before shifting his gaze to meet Richie’s.

“Soon, yeah,” Richie says, nodding.

“You really think you are, or are you just saying that because you want it?”

Richie licks his lips, pondering that. “It’s hard to separate the two, you know? Like… could you try the thumb, and if it’s too much I’ll tell you to stop?”

Eddie nods, and Richie loves him for the way he’s trying to be so careful and get it right for him. He knows by now that not every man would even come close to exerting this level of thoughtfulness, as his college years can attest. Eddie frowns as he concentrates on getting his thumb in just so, at just the right angle, and slowly. Even so, Richie has to force himself not to hold his breath, to slowly exhale and carefully draw in air. 

“Sweetheart?” Eddie says, and Richie nods. The circumference of Eddie’s hand, with the thumb involved, is definitely bigger now. If this is really Eddie’s way of getting Richie to stop making fun of him for the size of his hands, then touché. ...Nah. There’s actually an entire new avenue of hand-size jokes open to him now. So to speak. He laughs softly, dazedly. “Mm?” Eddie queries. 

“Just thinking about what our friends might say if they saw us now.”

Eddie makes an unimpressed noise. 

“You think they’d be surprised?” Richie presses, feeling himself very gradually relaxing around Eddie’s fingers and thumb.

“That you’re lying there naked on our bed with my hand up your ass? No,” Eddie says, and then suddenly he grins. “Yeah, no, I don’t think they’d be all that surprised. Considering that kiss in the quarry. Shit, if any of us even knew when we were thirteen that this was something people did I don’t think even then they’d be surprised.”

“It’s not your hand, technically,” Richie points out, a little shaky. “Not yet. Almost. Soon.”

“You can’t be ready to go past my knuckles yet,” Eddie says, doubtful, and God, just thinking about how close Eddie is to getting in past the knuckles…. Richie groans, long and low. 

“No, not yet,” he agrees, and Eddie’s shoulders relax a little, from being poised to argue with Richie about it. Eddie pauses to drip more lube down onto where they’re connected, going a little pinker in the face as he looks again, and Richie finds himself missing Eddie’s cock right about now. Sure, it’s not far, but he can’t see it or touch it or taste it. He’s probably getting his underwear even stickier than Richie’s stomach is right now. 

“I know this must be getting to you since you’re not talking as much,” Eddie says, a little unsteadily. Richie laughs, a short bark of amusement, and inhales, then sighs. He feels so full, so stretched, and there’s still more to go. He feels drugged, beyond any effect of the wine—he’s pretty much sobered up, anyway. 

“It…. Yeah,” is all he says, and Eddie chuckles. 

“To think, all I need to do to get you to shut up is slowly insert my entire hand into your ass,” Eddie says, in a tone so serious that Richie starts laughing, quietly, trying not to tense up again.

Once he’s calmed back down, feeling good and stretched, he nods, opening his eyes that have fallen closed again. “Try now,” he tells Eddie. “Little more. I’ll tell you if I need you to stop.”

Eddie nods. 

Richie can feel himself very, very slowly expanding around the gradual pressing in of Eddie’s hand. _Fuck, fuck_ , he realizes, like getting a headrush, heartbeat kicking up again, _Eddie’s knuckles_ …. 

He and Eddie have had a pretty decent amount and variety of sex, something Richie would get down on his knees and pray his thankfulness for if he wasn’t so busy being on his knees for other reasons. Eddie even let Richie rim him, after a lot of begging and practically writing a ten-page paper explaining why Eddie would like it (he did, he admitted). This…. There’s something different about this. Okay, the idea is kind of goofy and ridiculous—but the actual feeling is so… exquisitely vulnerable, so intimate he can barely believe it’s possible. The only person he’d ever want to be like this for is Eddie, the only person he’d trust this much, and how incredibly lucky is he that Eddie’s here to do this with him? Maybe he should be feeling fear right now, and maybe with anyone else, he would be.

Eddie’s going achingly slowly. It probably hurts, holding his hand like that for so long, but he’s doing it anyway, not rushing him. Richie lets his head slump back onto the bed, feeling his chest expand with a deep, slow breath. 

And… he’s doing it. 

He makes a soft sound in his throat as he feels himself take Eddie past his knuckles. He’s barely aware of the catch in Eddie’s breath—he looks over at him, sees him watching his hand with that dazed expression. Then he looks up, meets Richie’s gaze.

“Rich?” Eddie’s voice is soft, concerned. 

Richie inhales, and nods. “It’s good,” he gets out, voice tight. Their eyes are locked as Eddie lets his hand go in a little further, careful, and then he’s in, his entire hand is inside Richie. “Jesus,” he chokes out, panting. He has to force himself to take a deep breath, or he’ll get lightheaded. “Fuck. _Eddie_ ,” he exhales, shaky.

“Yeah,” Eddie whispers, unsteady, not looking away as he presses another kiss to Richie’s knee, absently. “Can I— Are you okay if I— stop pointing my fingers?”

“Let’s see,” Richie manages. Eddie relaxes his fingers, and Richie nods, closing his eyes for a moment. “Okay,” he says, opening his eyes, “if we’re doing this, you might as well make a fist.”

Eddie nods, eyes still wide. “Can you feel that?” he asks. “My fist?”

“Yeah…. I mean, yeah, but no. God, that feels so weird.” Richie thinks he might be slurring. 

“Good weird?” Eddie sounds worried, brow furrowed.

“ _Amazing_ weird,” Richie sighs. “ _Eddie_.”

Eddie inhales sharply. “You want to come like this,” he asks, “you want me to jerk you off?” It’s maybe too soon—Richie kind of wants to stay like this, just feeling this, but on the other hand, there’s a warmth in him, heavy and low, that’s building and he knows soon he’ll be desperate to come just to break that tension. He’s a little surprised he hasn’t really gone soft this entire time, but on the other hand (ha ha), no he isn’t. Maybe if and when they do this again, he’ll be able to hold off longer.

“Yeah, please, God, I won’t take long, just—” Richie responds, nodding, a little frantic. 

His fist still inside Richie, Eddie wraps a hand around his cock; Richie gasps, feeling himself tighten around Eddie in response to the touch after having been neglected there for what feels like so long. A few tight strokes of Eddie’s hand and Richie’s arching his back and coming, clenching tight around Eddie’s _other_ hand—his wrist, really—coming harder than he probably ever has, shuddering. He’s barely aware of how loud he’s groaning.

As the shudders fade, Richie’s aware of the way he’s clenching in little flutters around Eddie’s hand. He’s starting to get oversensitive, but he’s kind of enjoying it. He knows, though, that it’ll get uncomfortable soon.

“Rich, you— Can I—” Eddie moves his hand just a bit, like he’s going to pull it out, and still floating, buzzing, Richie nods. With care, Eddie draws his hand out, and it, predictably, feels kinda weird. “Can I—” he says, a little desperate-sounding.

“Anything, yes,” Richie says, blind to what he’s agreeing to and not caring.

Eddie gets the hand that was just around Richie’s cock and which is still slick with his come into his boxer-briefs and around his own cock, pulling it over the waistband; kneeling up, with just a few strokes he’s coming over Richie’s spent cock, stomach, that entire area of real estate. Sighing, trembling, he leans on Richie’s legs to catch his breath. “Jesus, Rich,” he finally sighs. 

“I’ve gotta— Can I—” Richie’s got to stretch out his legs, and he does, slowly, groaning. Eddie carefully strips off the glove, inside out, putting it into a plastic bag he apparently gathered exactly for this purpose. “Come here,” he says, wincing as he stretches out. “Jesus,” he adds, holding out his arms. He’s a little surprised when Eddie doesn’t protest that he needs to go clean up or get something to clean Richie up with first, but instead he lies down partly on Richie, sticky as they are, and lets Richie wrap him up in his arms. 

“You okay?” Eddie says against his neck, muffled, stroking a hand down his side. 

“I am extremely okay,” Richie assures him honestly. He shifts to kiss Eddie’s temple. “Never better.” Eddie raises his head to kiss him then; neither of them have the energy right now for much more, but it’s good. Eddie settles in again, but a little more on his side now, less of his weight on Richie. 

“You did beautifully, sweetheart,” Eddie says, and Richie, still floating on endorphins and dopamine, almost doesn’t catch it when he adds, “Give yourself a hand.”

“Oh, shit. Good one,” Richie laughs. “But I mean, seems you’ve got that covered, right?”

“Guess I do.” They’re like that for a while longer, their breathing evening out, until Richie’s sure any second now Eddie won’t be able to take it anymore and will have to take steps to wipe off all the lube and come. Sighing, Eddie finally pushes himself up, drops another brief kiss on Richie’s mouth, and says, “Okay, let me get you cleaned up, and then we’ll sleep.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Richie says, smiling, immeasurably fond. “Hey.” 

Eddie, at the side of the bed and pulling up his underwear properly while grumbling about the mess, turns to him, and Richie blows him a kiss; he catches it by turning his head like it’s slapped him, wincing, and then he can’t act anymore and grins back, serious little handsome face suddenly transformed by love.

**Author's Note:**

> Because they deserve this. 
> 
> Title courtesy the Book of Isaiah.


End file.
